Redwall Duels
by One-Eye the Wildcat
Summary: Redwall OCs fight each other. Most of these will be created through a roleplay format. Requests are welcome. Please R&R!
1. Blackpaw vs Sharpfur

Sharpfur sniffed curiously at the air and adjusted his spectacles.

He could sense a presence…

Blackpaw woke up. "Hello?"

Sharpfur's ear gave a twitch, and the little weasel turned promptly to the noise's direction, "Hello..."

Blackpaw walked out of the shadows. "Who the heck are you?"

"I could ask ye the same question." Sharpfur replied, his eyes narrowing in dislike.

"Watch your tongue, Smalls. Someone might just cut it off." said Blackpaw.

Sharpfur did not like the tone of this taller weasel. "Ye threatenin' me? Haha! The last beast who threatened me drowned in his own pudding!"

"Ha." said Blackpaw. "I've killed better fighters than you'll ever be. Run along or I'll remove your intestines!"

"It's pronounced IN-TEST-INES, ye unedjucated wretch!" Sharpfur growled and drew his dirk. He had fought older and larger beasts before and if this black-pawed worm thought he could push him around...

Blackpaw took one look at the dirk, and drew his sword and knife, and took up a fighting stance. "You got spine! But will it last?" at this, the black-pawed weasel ran forward, brandishing his weapons.

Sharpfur had enough time to neatly fold his spectacles (it would not do to damage them now) before the other weasel was upon him.

Blackpaw stabbed at the smaller weasel with his knife.

Sharpfur parried the blade with own

Blackpaw's sword flashed out at Sharpfur's throat.

The little weasel only just managed to duck into a roll and avoid what could have been a finishing blow. Getting quickly to his feet the weasel slashed backwards at Blackpaw's exposed... back

Blackpaw yelped as a shallow cut was landed on his back, then remembered a trick Longtail had taught him, and dropped to the floor.

Sharpfur dropped his dirk and backed off hurriedly at the sight of the blood

He hadn't meant to kill the weasel... not another deadbeast

Blackpaw then braced himself on the ground, and pushed off, tackling Sharpfur. "Gotcha now, runt!"

Sharpfur tucked his legs under him and kicked at the larger weasel.

Blackpaw swung his sword, missed, and lashed out with his dagger, inflicting a small cut on Sharpfur's leg.

Sharpfur, deprived of his weapon through trickery, did as he'd always been taught and as instinct decreed and raced away "Can't catch me ye big idjit! Bottle-nosed slow-poke!"

Blackpaw tipped over a large shelf of books in Sharpfur's direction

The bookshelf slammed into the ground- yet Sharpfur, for once lucky to be small, had somehow been spared any pain by virtue of fitting neatly between a pair of shelves. "My turn!" And the books went flying...

Blackpaw heaved a volume labeled "Sixclaw" in Sharpfur's direction.

All 18, 315 words hit Sharpfur in the face

"Try this on for size then!" The little weasel hurled a massive tome of precisely 198, 070 (and counting) words at his opponent. The title of the book was Black and White, and it caught Blackpaw in the stomach.

Blackpaw groaned from the impact, but got up quickly, and began hurling smaller books at Sharpfur.

Sharpfur nimbly dodged the volley of paper projectiles, ducking and weaving between them. Snatching up a dictionary heavy enough to flatten a kitten, the little weasel threw it at Blackpaw with nothing less than extreme prejudice!

Blackpaw narrowly dodged the large book, drew his sword and began to charge Sharpfur.

The weasel ducked low, and tugged the carpet from under his opponent.

Blackpaw screeched as the floor was pulled out from under him, but got up quickly, closed the distance, and slugged Sharpfur in the stomach with all his might.

The smaller weasel was bowled over, the wind having been knocked out of him.

Blackpaw waited for his opponent to get back up, not making a move to attack.

Sharpfur rubbed at his belly as he got up with a groan. "Ye pack a mean swing." He pointed at the floor. "But ye dropped something."

Blackpaw sniggered. "I'm not gonna fall for that old trick."

Sharpfur swiftly brought his knee between the older weasel's legs. "Always have more than one trick up yer sleeve, thick-skull."

Blackpaw fell back from the force of the blow, but got back up, seemingly unfazed. "A long time ago, I learned something from a very smart wildcat. To always wear protection."

"Facts-inating." Sharpfur drawled. "An' I learned from nobeast in particular, that anythin' heavy hurts when it hits ye!" The weasel's claws slashed at the conveniently-placed chandelier rope.

Blackpaw yelled, and dodged the large chandelier, before it hit the floor with an ear shattering crash..

"And I learned from ye that bookshelves make in-tur-esting weapons!" Sharpfur gave a nearby bookshelf, laden with all sorts of volumes of the big and heavy kind, a hard shove and watched in delight as it tipped towards his opponent.

Blackpaw dodged the bookshelf by rolling out from under it, and threw his knife at Sharpfur.

The little weasel sidestepped the blade, and watched as it hit a wooden wall and quivered there.

Blackpaw nodded in approval. "Yer good. Who taught ya to fight?"

The Grey CoincidenceYesterday at 4:52 PM

"Me! Meself! I! Sharp! Fur!" With each syllable he hurled another book at his opponent. He was not necessarily telling the truth, his mother had taught him much and Threeclaw more. But this black-pawed beast didn't need all the details...

Blackpaw had had enough. The weasel grabbed a large book ran forward, and swung it at point blank range at Sharpfur's forehead.

The little weasel stiffened slightly and swayed on the spot, muttering incoherent insults

Blackpaw thought about killing the smaller weasel, but decided to punch him in the stomach instead.

Sharpfur gritted his teeth, snarled, and clamped his jaws shut over his assailant's leg

Blackpaw screeched in rage and pain, and flapped his wounded leg around, and by extension, the smaller weasel with it.

Sharpfur clung on determinedly, rather like a hairy leech

Not that he was sucking the blood or anything, as that would have been cannibalism.

Blackpaw punched the smaller weasel in the face repeatedly.

Sharpfur's claws dug into his aggressor's leg with bloody vengeance

If he hadn't dropped the dirk so early...

Blackpaw screamed once more, and clouted Sharpfur again in the head with a book.

Sharpfur let go, and now aimed to dig his muzzle into his opponent's stomach.

Blackpaw grabbed Sharpfur by the throat and pried him off of his leg, but when Sharpfur came off, so did a chunk of fur.

Sharpfur clawed at the paw holding him, spitting out the larger weasel's fur

Blackpaw yelped in pain, and finally retreated from the smaller weasel, into the shadows.

Sharpfur was thankful for the respite, but knew it would not last long. He scanned the library floor in search of his dirk

If he could just get to it before the larger weasel attacked...

Blackpaw drew his sword and gripped the handle.

Sharpfur scampered over to where he'd dropped his signature weapon, and snatched it into his paw

Blackpaw decided to end this fight, and ran forward, his sword pointed at his opponents back.

Sharpfur raised the dirk in time to parry his opponent's blade, and thereby avoid anything life-threatening, but could not prevent the larger weasel barreling into him with the A-Quiver-Alent Force of a battering ram

Blackpaw slammed Sharpfur against a wall, and then gripped the smaller weasel in a bear hug.

Sharpfur squirmed and struggled like a snake in a bag, but found his arms pinned to his side, his dirk on the floor, and his feetpaws squished against a wall.

Blackpaw held him there for a minute, and then dropped the weasel.

Sharpfur slid to the ground with a groan.

Blackpaw looked down at the weasel contemptuously. "Run."

"Hard... when yer ribs... ache..."

"I'll wait." said Blackpaw. "Just get out of my library."

"It's my library! And I was here first!" Sharpfur growled indignantly, rising shakily to stumbling feetpaws.

"Whatever, Sharpfur." said Blackpaw, rolling his eyes. "Bugger, off!"

Snatching up his dirk, a dictionary and all the books that were his, Sharpfur left. _Wait till I tell Ma about this wretch... He'll have it coming then!_

Blackpaw slid to the ground with a groan. _Random weasels in my attic? What is Redwall coming to?_

**A/N**

**Hi, It's One-Eye the wildcat. This story, hopefully the first in a series, was a RP project that me and The Grey Coincidence did on discord. **


	2. Threeclaws vs Elmblade

Threeclaw sighed in contentment as he stepped foot into the meagre shelter of the frozen ruins. It was not much hotter within the dilapidated fortress- but it certainly beat becoming a snowbeast.

"Back off, vermin!" A voice growled, followed by a squirrel armed with a claymore. "This is my shelter!"

Threeclaw gave the claymore and it's wielder a look of unworried disdain. Crossing his paws the stoat smirked. "This is a grand palace squirrel. I don't see why two beasts can't share."

Elmblade gave Threeclaws a scoff. "Ha! Ye'd probably try tae rob me blind!"

"I wouldn't rob you _blind_." The stoat said with a lazy roll of his eyes. "Are you saying I have l'aire d'un voleur?"

"What did ye jus' say?" Elmblade asked, his voice dangerously calm. "Did ye jus' insult me?"

Another fool with no knowledge of the finer tongues. "That's not what I said. What I _did_ say is not really your business though is it? It's a big castle squirrel, go find some tree to climb."

"That's it!" Elmblade pointed his claymore at the vermin. "If ye don't get out o' 'ere right now, I'll be forced tae make ye leave!"

Threeclaw yawned and drew his rapier. "Comme vous voulez. But just remember when you're freezing your big bushy tail off outside that this is entirely your fault."

Elmblade gave a nod. "As ye wish." The squirrel suddenly jumped to the side and grabbed a longbow that was lying next to him by his pack. Drawing it back, an arrow notched and ready, he growled, "I didn't want tae 'ave tae do this." Then, he released the arrow.

Threeclaw stepped backwards suddenly, watching as the arrow sailed past him. Without a moment's pause the stoat shot forwards on nimble feet- numb though the cold had made them.

Mumbling under his breath, Elmblade quickly unstrung the bow and held it in both paws like a staff. _Maybe I won't have to kill him,_ He thought. _But I'll keep my claymore close, just in case._

Threeclaw began by feinting a low slash for the squirrel's footpaws

Elmblade tried to jump up as the vermin's blade slashed at his footpaws. Unfortunately, the cold had made the squirrel slower than usual and he got a painful nick in the leg. Using the unstrung bow like a staff, he swung it at Threeclaw's head

The stoat flattened his ears as the staff flew overhead, but withdrew swiftly, recoiling like a snake, his rapier a blur of flashing steel.

Elmblade had never fought an opponent this skilled in a while. _I might just have to use that claymore,_ He mused to himself, blocking the vermin's blows. _This fight would be a different story if I didn't have this thing as a weapon._ He gave a powerful lunge at Threeclaws.

Threeclaw parried the blow, but it made his blade shake like a rung bell and forced the stoat backwards, lest he lose more ground.

Elmblade glanced past the stoat and saw the steep ditch that was just behind the vermin. He started raining blows on Threeclaws, hopefully he would be able to drive him into the ditch.

Threeclaw too had noticed the ditch, and had done so upon entering (it was rather hard to miss) and was desperate to avoid it. Suddenly he tossed his rapier into his other paw, and slashed at the squirrel for this new angle of attack.

The squirrel was taken by surprise at Threeclaw's change of tactic. As he blocked the stoat's swings Elmblade quickly decided that he wasn't going to be able to beat this vermin with only a wooden pole very easily. Jumping back, he swung out his claymore and charged furiously.

The stoat watched the squirrel come towards him, now dual-weilding the pole and claymore. He waited patiently until the last second, before swiftly flattening himself against the side of the wall, letting the squirrel pass by him- and over his outstretched leg!

Elmblade leapt over Threeclaw's outstretched leg and landed on the ground in between the ditch and the stoat. _He's sure a crafty fellow I'll give him that._ Elmblade knew he had to get away from the ditch fast. Reaching down, he picked up a handful of dirt and threw it into the vermin's eye.

Threeclaw had not expected the dirt- most woodlanders fought fair, but then again, this one was ever-so-slightly above the average woodlander. Of course, the dirt did nothing to stop the flat of his rapier connecting heavily with the squirrel's rump.

"Ouch! Why you!" Elmblade jumped forward and stomped on the stoat's tail.

"Touche." Once more the stoat retreated- though thankfully he was now facing the ditch. His rapier darted forwards like a sprung coil.

Elmblade blocked the blows and thrust a few counter attacks of his own. Hopefully he would be able to use one of the moves that his father had taught him to disarm this insulting vermin.

Threeclaws continued to parry, swapping constantly from defensive to offensive movements. He aimed for the face, then the chest, the leg, the left paw and so on and so forth.

Elmblade had now dueled with Threeclaws long enough to where he had learned what most of the vermin's moves were. Blocking and hacking the squirrel continued to fight. He would never give up! Though he had to admit, it felt rather good to fight a challenging opponent.

Threeclaws was beginning to get bored. He had been travel-weary since the beginning and the squirrel's unprovoked antagonism had done nothing to replenish his energy. He'd warmed up at least... So, continuously parrying and jabbing as necessary, the stoat struck up a conversation. "So what exactly is your nom?"

"Oh well it's probably- Hey! Jus' what are ye trying tae do? Are ye trying tae distract me?!"

_This one is very unfriendly..._ "Je suis demande your _name_. You see fighting can get, oh- so- repeating."

"Aye, that's true..." My name is Elmblade, what's ye'rs?" He asked, ready to block and of the vermin's blows in case this was just a trick.

Smirking at the squirrel's sudden look of surprise, the stoat pointed the tip of his rapier down and waved his three-clawed paw. "You have troi guesses."

Elmblade slowly let his claymore at ease. "Hmm... Threeclaw?"

"Muy bien." The stoat's rapier shot back up as fast as lightning, and dived towards the squirrel's paw.

_Hmm... Figured as much,_ the squirrel grinned to himself, _Just when you think vermin aren't that bad..._ Blocking the blow with ease, he swung his unstrung bow in a sideways sweep.

Threeclaw hopped over the sweeping blow, simultaneously lunging at his opponent. "So, who taught you how to fight?"

"Mae father's best friend." The squirrel replied. A dangerous glint appeared in his eyes as he added, "He was killed in an ambush by vermin."

"Who taught ye?"

Momentarily Threeclaw's grin became a sad sort of frown. It lasted for about half a second. "Nobeast important. For all I know a badger killed them."

"Oh, I'm sorry tae hear that. Who was the badger?" While they were talking, Elmblade had been slowly forcing the stoat toward the back of a stone wall.

"How am I supposed to know?" Threeclaw snapped. He never should have started this conversation, and now the squirrel was trying to trap him again…

Elmblade smiled to himself as they got closer and closer to the wall. "Where did ye grow up?"

"Somewhere hot." The stoat lied, suddenly swapping paws again, to lunge from the left

_Hmm... That move again, eh?_ Elmblade thought as he tried to block the blow.

But the blow was more distraction than attack, and Threeclaw brought his footpaw down on the squirrel's

Elmblade grunted with pain as his footpaw was hit. "That's it! Time to end this!" Leaping forward, he barreled into the vermin, both losing their weapons in the process.

Threeclaw was surprised by the sudden change in tactic. Was the squirrel enraged by the thought of hot places?

Elmblade punched Threeclaws hard in the face with both of his paws. _Maybe if I could knock him out we could end this with no blood shed…_

Threeclaw tucked in his feetpaws and rolled backwards- kicking the squirrel off of him.

Elmblade rolled over as he landed. Jumping up, he leapt back onto the vermin, grabbing him by the throat.

Threeclaws claws slashed viciously at the squirrel's paws. _Some determined woodlander. All I wanted was some shelter... not like he owns this ruin._

_All I wanted was to rest in peace and warmth for one night. One night! That was all I wanted!_ Grabbing a rock, he bashed Threeclaws on the shoulder. _If only this vermin would give up. I hope I don't have to kill him…_

Threeclaw slipped out of the squirrel's grip and drew backwards, snarling- his sharp teeth glinting in the half-light.

Elmblade rubbed the wounds on his paw. _This vermin is a dirty fighter._ Crouching down, he waited for the vermin's next move.

Threeclaw waited patiently for the squirrel to strike, surveying the terrain and searching for his rapier.=

Elmblade saw the vermin's eyes dart around for a weapon. He barreled into Threeclaw, yelling on the top of his lungs, "JUS' SURRENDER ALREADY!"

The stoat brought his claws up and around the squirrel's throat

"You attacked me, do not be expecting me to surrender!"

"Ye tried tae steal mae shelter! Back off!" He headbutted the vermin in the face and tried to lock him in a hold.

"You woodlanders." The stoat hissed, repeatedly kicking his opponent's unprotected stomach. "It's a whole castle. How can it possibly belong to vous?"

"I didn't need th' whole castle! Ye jus' came up an' tried tae steal the cave where I had jus' finished setting up camp!" He spat, throwing the stoat to the ground.

"I walked into a ruin." Threeclaw rolled back to his feetpaws. "Not your camp."

"The ruins are my camp."

"And where." The stoat demanded. "Is that ecrit?"

"Let's jus' say it's my destiny tae be here then. Etched in stone, 'this is Elmblade's camp.' Happy?!"

The stoat crossed his paws. "You seem to enjoy looking for trouble with that kind of attitude…"

"Hmp! Well ye weren't exactly 'elping either."

"Blaming the victim." Threeclaw shook his head in disgust. "You woodlanders have no honour."

Ye're one tae talk," Elmblade shot back. "But if ye want, we could both drop our weapons 'n' settle this like two mature beasts?"

Threeclaw stared at him through a face so deadpanned... it resembled a dead pan. (In fact it looked like this '-.-') "We are both already disarmed."

"I meant any weapons that ye've got on ye, like any 'idden daggers that ye have or anything like that." Elmblade said, shaking his head. _Did the vermin actually think he was that dumb?_

"Are you asking me to saw my claws off, because if that is being the case I'd rather keep fighting."

"Hmm...that's actually not a bad idea! Let me help ye saw 'em off." Elmblade began to walk forward.

Threeclaw snarled and bared his fangs. "Shave my claws and I'll shave your tail."

Elmblade waved his paw dismissively. "Ach! I was kidding! Honestly, can't ye take a joke?"

"I was joking too. I'd have _chewed_ your tail off." Threeclaw crossed his paws over his chest. "Anyhow it's hard to tell when somebeast is joking when they attacked you for _no reason_ only moments ago."

Elmblade shook his head and let out a tired sigh. "Look, I only attacked ye because ye wouldn't leave mae camp. An' besides, this place around 'ere is known for its population o' thieves and cutthroats."

"Hitting first and asking after? You are sounding like an especially stupid squirrel." Threeclaw slid down against a wall, until he was sitting at it's foot.

Elmblade couldn't help but chuckle. "Aye. But only sometimes." The squirrel also sat down, but made sure his paw was close to a rock, just in case. "It's freezing out 'ere. We should decide what we're gonna do quickly afore one o' us dies of cold."

"Make a fire. I don't suppose you found any wood?"

Threeclaw smirked. "It is _your_ camp aftre all."

"Yes it is," Elmblade replied, a smirk also forming on his face. "That's why _ye_ should collect some more wood while I start a fire wit' what I already found."

"There's some in the ditch already." Threeclaw reclined slightly, his eyes already half-shut.

"Then I guess ye'd better go get it," Elmblade replied. "Or we'll run out."

The only thing coming from the stoats form, was the sound of a soft snoring.

Elmblade merely let a world was full of crazy creatures...

_Fin._

**A/N**

**I do not own this sequence or the characters. Elmblade belongs to Sebias of Redwall, And Threeclaws belongs to The Grey Coincidence. This was completed on Discord.**

**R&R, and Au revoir, mes amis!**


	3. Bork vs Roguestripe

REDWALL DUELS

Chapter 3

Roguestripe smiled to himself and settled his huge battle axe on his shoulder as he walked on the shoreline. Hopefully, there would be no vermin for him to stop. All he wanted was a peaceful morning stroll along the beach, hopefully without any vermin.

Bork kicked a pebble with extreme prejudice. He was lost. Again. Unarmed! Unarmoured! And all his vittles were missing too! This was all Klis' fault!

Roguestripe sighed in disappointment as he spotted a large, fat wolverine kicking pebbles around the beach. Where there was wolverines, there could easily be more vermin around. Unshouldering his axe, he charged.

And to top it all off a humongous, fully grown badger was charging at him! Bork's first instinct was to scream, but that was very unkingly, so he kicked a particularly large-ish rock towards his opponent instead. This was a most unwise tactic and greatly hurt his footpaw.

As Roguestripe was charging, he realized that his opponent was little more than a kid, stopping him in his tracks. However, when the wolverine kicked a rock at him, it angered him even more, convincing him to pick up the wolverine and toss him into the trees, though he did suffer several scratches. Believing the fight was over, Roguestripe started back for Salamandastron.

As far as wolverines were concerned, Bork was surprisingly used to being tossed around and rose swiftly to his feetpaws. He growled, and extended his claws. Short and fat, just like him (or at least, that was what his father always said...) they were as sharp as razors (unlike him, his father used to say).

Bork pounced forwards with a snarl that would've made his father sneer- but Longclaw was nowhere near and this badger's back was exposed and unprotected.

Roguestripe roared in pain as the wolverine's claws dug into his back. swinging around, he launched the wolverine into the trees. Racing towards where the wolverine had landed, Roguestripe drew his axe.

This time Bork _did_ scream! He didn't have time to think about what his father might say to that, for he was too busy rolling to the side.

Roguestripe raised his axe and was about to go in for the kill, when suddenly he stopped. He couldn't just kill this wolverine in cold blood, he was just a kid! Roguestripe lowered his axe, trying to decide what to do.

Bork had been taught how to fight of course, but all and any training remained forgotten in the face of this badger. The axe was lowering, but that provided him no comfort. The young wolverine tried to run, tripped and fell on his belly.

Looking at the pathetic sight of the small, fat wolverine, Roguestripe burst out laughing. He knew it was out of place, and it was probably a bad idea, but he couldn't help himself. He just looked so ridiculous!

Bork snarled. He hated laughter! He was sick of laugher! He was not! A! Clown! Seizing a pawful of sand he spun round and hurled it at his opponent.

Roguestripe's laughter ended abruptly as he tried to paw the sand out of his eyes. Dropping his battle axe, he raised both of his paws to his eyes and tried to rub the sand out, temporarily forgetting his opponent.

Bork pounced upon the unarmed badger. He was not entirely sure what he was trying to do. Strangle him? Punch him? Crush him beneath his weight? It didn't matter, Bork was angry and this beast deserved a beating!

Finally getting the sand out of his eyes, Roguestripe realized that the wolverine was know on top of him! Growling, the huge badger dropped to the ground and began rolling around, trying to force his opponent off.

Bork had underestimated the badger, it seemed. Even unarmed he was toying with him! Rolling him around in the sand as if he were no more than a rag doll!

Roguestripe stood up, looking at the nearly crushed young wolverine in the sand. Deciding That he had had enough, Roguestripe picked up his axe and started away.

Bork lay defeated, a low groan leaving him. Could his morning get any worse?

**A/N**

**I don't own these characters. Bork belongs to The Grey Coincidence, and Roguestripe is the property of Socca Kingkiller.**

**R&R!**


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